


To The World Saver

by Basmathgirl



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Disobeying Orders, Fluff, Gen, Orders, Pregnancy, References to Miscarriage, St James's Park (Good Omens), but no harm is done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 13:31:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21495103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basmathgirl/pseuds/Basmathgirl
Summary: Long, long ago, Crowley was sent on a special mission, so he added his own twist.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Geoffrey Noble/Sylvia Noble
Comments: 14
Kudos: 95





	To The World Saver

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I own the books but not the characters  
**A/N:** once upon a time, tardis.wiki had Donna’s age as 35 years old (you know, back when she was acknowledged as being half human and half Time Lord), so I’m sticking to that.  
**A/N2:** I have other requested prompts to write so of course my muse insisted I wrote this for [starlessskies94](https://starlessskies94.tumblr.com/) instead.

Shocked. That was the only way to describe Crowley’s reaction when given the order by downstairs. Kill a baby! Really?! 

“Don’t fret, dear boy,” Aziraphale consoled him over a glass of red wine later that day. 

“But a baby, Angel. You can’t go around killing babies,” Crowley cried in protest. 

Taking in a deep breath, Aziraphale carefully put his own glass of wine down and leaned forward to confess, “I have been told to intervene.”

“You have?” Relief flooded through Crowley’s mind. Phew! This whole situation could be avoided, if they played their cards right. 

“I have.” Aziraphale smiled; in that way that had always charmed him. “Perhaps they are rehearsing for the anti-Christ? You never know.”

“Already?” Crowley questioned as the thought began to make more sense to his inebriated mind. “It’s only 1971, but… Could be. They’d want to test out if we can pay attention properly, I suppose.”

“Would it make you feel better if we did this one together?” Aziraphale offered.

“We can’t risk it,” Crowley worried, waving a hand to ward off his likely punishment. “They’d know.”

“Not if we’re careful,” Aziraphale considered. “We’ve gotten away with meeting in public before now.”

“In a place frequented by spies!” 

“Then we will have to arrange for the baby to be there in St James’ Park too, with a little persuasion,” Aziraphale declared. “A little afternoon stroll in a London park might be just the ticket.”

In answer, Crowley slowly smiled, already loving the idea.

●-●

Sylvia Noble was in a good mood now that she was finally able to relax into her pregnancy. It still felt odd to be able to declare it to all and sundry; whether it was through her words or the sight of her expanding bump. After their failed efforts to not only conceive but produce a real live baby, she tried hard to ward off her fears that it could all go bad at any second.

With a proud pat to her bump, she decided it was time to have a cup of tea and put her feet up. But she had to get home first. Preferably as soon as possible before her bladder insisted it gained her attention. Again. Honestly, being pregnant seemed to be nothing more than constant visits to the bathroom, thanks to morning sickness or the urge to pee. Oh well, it would be all be worth it in the end. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Geoffrey Noble asked his wife as they strolled arm in arm along a path in St James’ Park one sunny but cool afternoon. 

“Yes,” she agreed, after considering the question. “I was worried at first that it’d be too wet and horrible today to come here, but it’s a lovely day.” 

He grinned at her. “It’s as if I planned it that way.”

“You wish!” she scoffed. “If you could arrange the weather, you could have also got us invited to have tea with the Queen.”

“Who needs her when I have you, my own queen?” he gushed, making Sylvia giggle with delight. 

Spotting an empty bench ahead, he silently offered that they sit and rest to take in the view. Snuggling with his pregnant wife was his new favourite thing, and he couldn’t wait to be able to greet their unborn child when he/she arrived. 

“Do you think the Queen ever sends out one of her flunkeys to buy her an ice cream?” Sylvia suddenly wondered.

Geoffrey shook his head in amazement. Where did she get these weird notions from? “No. she’d get it sent in from Harrods or Fortnum & Masons,” he replied. “Talking of which, do you fancy an ice lolly? There’s an ice cream man just up there,” he continued, pointing further along the path.

Why not? It wasn’t often that they had such a treat. “Yes please.”

“You stay right there,” Geoffrey had firmly ordered his wife, standing up from the bench. “And I’ll be as quick as I can. If you’re really good, I’ll buy you a 99. How does that sound?”

“Lovely.” She grinned back at her husband, ever ready to let him wait on her whenever possible. “Or if they’ve got one, could we push the boat out and get an ice cream oyster instead?”

“Anything for you,” he schmoozed. And then dashed off leaving Sylvia with her thoughts as she watched him go.

As she sat contemplating how long he would take to return, her thoughts turned to the odd pair of gentlemen walking along the pathway towards her. They were of similar heights but otherwise their appearance was other ends of opposing poles. 

The shorter gentleman was wearing a cream and sand coloured three-piece suit ensemble made from brushed velvet and crisp linens; and topped with a matching tartan bow tie. Very Frank Muir, she thought. Whereas the taller, thinner gentleman, was dressed all in black, from his Chelsea boots, leather jacket, passed his cashmere polo neck jumper, up to his modern razor-cut gypsy hairstyle. All very modern. Even his John Lennon sunglasses were black. 

Feeling her eyes upon them, Aziraphale stopped to pleasantly ask, “Excuse me, madam, but do you mind if I sit and adjust my shoe? I fear there is a stone in there.”

The man seemed so friendly and harmless; Sylvia had no problem granting his request. “Of course not.”

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it,” he commented as she keenly watched him remove his shoe. “My friend and I could not resist coming out for a stroll.”

“I’m with my husband,” she felt dutybound to supply. 

“Congratulations on the baby,” Aziraphale continued to chat, whilst Crowley attentively stood nearby. 

“Thank you.” Now Sylvia practically glowed from their keen attention.

“What are you hoping for?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Oh, I don’t mind,” she answered, giving her stomach a consoling rub. “As long as it’s healthy.”

“I’m sure it will be,” Aziraphale replied, adding a glance at his friend. “Don’t you think so, Crowley?”

“Hm. Yes,” Crowley faintly responded. “Perhaps we could…?”

Catching the suggestion to get on with it, Aziraphale pinned Sylvia with a sincere look and requested, “May we give your child our blessing? Theirs will be a very special life.”

It was shock that stopped Sylvia complaining when he laid a gentle hand on her body for a second, then snapped his fingers away. 

Seizing his chance, Crowley couldn’t resist laying a hand briefing on her expanded stomach, feeling the life beneath his touch. If the baby was going to be important for the universe, why not make her extra noticeable with her fieriness, and really stand out? A little touch of him to add into the mix. 

Pulling his fingers away in an upward motion, he silently created a biological miracle of his own. Not new life, but an altered, enhanced life, full of questions, ideas, determination and capability. He then glanced towards Aziraphale and caught his curious expression. 

Having left her feeling relaxed and at peace with the situation, Aziraphale spoke their good wishes for her to have a pleasant day, and they made their leave.

●-●

“What did you do?” Aziraphale later asked Crowley, handing over a glass of his favourite vino.

“You gave her love, family love, didn’t you?” Crowley questioned.

“Of course,” Aziraphale confirmed.

“Well, I gave her something special from me. Just in case I have to find her again one day.”

“Oh Crowley, you didn’t make her disfigured in some way. Please say you didn’t,” Aziraphale begged.

“No, Angel, I didn’t.” Crowley smirked, enjoying teasing his friend. “The best of us ask the important questions, so I gave her a mind capable of dealing with the answers.”

“Ah.” Aziraphale happily sighed and leaned back into the comfort of his armchair. “A very useful skill.” He then raised his glass of wine in a toast. “To the Noble baby.”

“To the Noble baby,” Crowley repeated, chinking glasses with some satisfaction. 

If downstairs didn’t hear about his little interventions, he’d be able to enjoy the company of his best friend for many decades to come.


End file.
